


Again Out After Dark

by casesandcapitals



Series: Dealer!Verse [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blow Jobs, Buying/Selling of Humans, Drug Dealing, Drugs, Explicit Language, M/M, Off-screen drug use, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casesandcapitals/pseuds/casesandcapitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone in Newark knows Frank, or, as people called him behind his back, Lil' Iero.<br/>Everyone in Newark knows Gerard, or, as people call him to his face, Whore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone in Newark knew Frank. Or, as people called him behind his back, Lil’ Iero.

Frank was a drug dealer, but not just any drug dealer. He was a menace. His name struck fear into the hearts of his enemies, his rivals, those who had tried screwing him over. He once beat a dude to death for calling him that hated nickname to his face. There had been witnesses, but people knew better than to talk.  
He ruled those streets he wanted with an iron fist. No one fucked with Frank more than once.

Everyone on Parker Ave knew Gerard. Or, as people called him to his face, Whore.

Gerard was a hooker, but not just any hooker. He was the best lay in Newark and everyone knew it. He would do anything you'd pay him for. Anything to make a buck, anything to get his pimp off his back, anything for another hit.  
He was skinny from the coke, bruised from the johns, beaten down from his pimp. But still, it always seemed like no one could touch him. No one could crack his poker face and really break him. Gerard would stand on his corner every night, looking bored. Always acting like he was above the petty shit going on around him.

It's late, bordering on early, and I'm antsy. I had gotten paid but the girl had needed convincing and now my knuckles hurt. They'd never learn.  
I need something to help me wind down, I decide, so I can get some sleep when the sun comes up. I've got one pocket heavy with bills, another pocket light with goods. I never touched the stuff myself, I know better than to dip into my own supply.  
The increase of stumbling drunks on the sidewalk tells me that I'm nearing a liquor store as I drive down a busy road. Maybe a few shots of something will take the edge off. I park in front of the tiny store with its bright yellow sign and its half-stocked shelves. I stride inside and straight to the back. The cashier keeps his head down while he rings up my Jack Daniels. The streetlight paints the sidewalk orange and illuminates the piles of cigarettes butts and splotches of old gum. I open my car door and I'm about to climb in when I spot a man standing across the intersection, watching me. A cherry flares next to his mouth before he tosses the butt to the ground and crushes it under his boot.  
I'm already reviewing my mental list of street names and who owns what. The corner of Parker Ave and Bell street? It's gonna be....  
I start my car and drive across the intersection, pulling to a stop against the curb. The guy pushes away from the cement wall at his back and saunters lazily over to the open passenger window. He's wearing skin tight black jeans, and a black shirt under a black leather jacket. If it weren't for the streetlights, the only part of him I'd be able to see would be his bright white skin.  
"Hmm?" he hums, peering into my car, his dark, sunken eyes darting around. His face is framed with messy black hair.  
"How much for the night?"  
"It's morning," he informs me.  
I clench my teeth and spit out "For the morning, then?"  
"Seven."  
"Fine, get in."  
He opens the door and drops in, ignoring the seat belt and immediately reclining the backrest to lay down.  
"What are you doing?" I demand.  
"My back hurts," he answers blankly.  
I bite off a retort and pull sharply away from the curb. A few minutes into the ride I ask, "What's your name?"  
"Gerard."  
"Then I was right. The _famous_ Gerard Way; best lay in Newark."  
"Best lay in Jersey," he intones. "And you're the _notorious_ Frank Iero; kill ya as soon as look at ya."  
I scoff. "I haven't heard that one yet. How'd you guess?"  
The red glow of a stop light illuminates the inside of the car.  
"Your knuckles."  
I stretch my fingers out over the steering wheel, showing the "HALLO" "WEEN" written across them.  
"Huh. I always thought it was the scorpion people recognized," I said, thinking about the tattoo on my neck.  
"I'm not people," he states.  
I look over at him. He's got his face covered by the crook of his elbow, his other hand tapping out a disjointed rhythm on his thigh. He sighs deeply, sounding annoyed.  
"We're here," I announce, pulling into the back parking lot of my apartment building.  
He pulls the backrest up and climbs out of my car, waiting by the hood for me to lead him inside. I can hear the other residents stirring in their apartments as we walk through the halls. A few people pass us on their way to work, keeping their eyes lowered.  
I unlock my door and step through, Gerard following behind me.  
"Where's your bathroom?" he asks as I relock the door.  
"Through there," I tell him, nodding towards the opposite end of the living room. He disappears into the tiny room and I head into the kitchen. I set the bottle of Jack Daniels down, pull my jacket off and hang it on a chair, then check the fridge. I'll have to buy food tonight, I think. I pour a glass of Jack then turn as Gerard saunters into the room.  
"Your place is a shithole," he informs me.  
I set my glass down gently and look him over, head to toe.  
"Come here," I say. He walks over, expressionless, and stands before me. I slap him across the face. "I didn't ask for your opinion."  
He looks back at me and gives me a dirty-looking smirk. "So it's gonna be like that, huh?" He steps forward and presses his body against mine, lips going straight for my throat, knee between my legs. "That's fine. You want me to beg?" he mutters in my ear. "Please baby, please let me come?"  
I growl and thread a hand through his hair, yanking his head away from mine.  
"Or do you just want me to be a submissive little doll for you to do with what you please?" he asks, lowering his head, eyes looking up through dark lashes, biting his lip gently.  
"I want you to shut the fuck up and suck me off."  
"Mmm, a man who knows what he wants," Gerard says, tone dripping with sarcasm.  
I slap him again. He gives a humorless, breathy 'hah' then slides to his knees. His hands go straight for my belt buckle. I pick up my glass from the counter and take a sip, watching him pull down my zipper. He tugs my jeans down my hips roughly and leans forward to mouth at my dick through my boxers. My fingers clench around my glass and I can feel myself filling out.  
Gerard leans back after a moment to reach into his pocket and pull out a condom. He puts it between his teeth, then drags my boxers down, exposing my hard dick.  
"Mmm," Gerard hums, tearing open the foil wrapper.  
I take another drink as he rolls the condom on, trying not to moan. He looks up at me, all sunken eyes and pale skin. I down the last of the alcohol and set the glass aside. He leans forward and licks at the tip, taking the base in his hand. I groan.  
Gerard sucks the head into his mouth, wrapping his pink lips around me. He hums and I sigh. I can feel saliva well up in his mouth and then he sinks down, taking almost all of it in one motion.  
"Fuck."  
He moans as he pulls back, then starts bobbing in and out. Just going for it, no teasing.  
"Fuck, Gerard," I sigh.  
"Hmm," he agrees, the low hum shooting right through me.  
I drop a hand from the counter to card it through his black locks. His neck goes slack and he lets me take control, pulling his head forward to fuck into his mouth. I thrust into him a few times and he doesn't gag, so I pull him close. Close enough that his nose is brushing my dark pubes and I can see his throat bulge. He glares up at me from where I'm holding him against me, setting his hands against my thighs as a warning.  
"Swallow," I order. He does and I curse at the feeling of muscles contracting around my cock. I release his hair and let him take control again.  
Gerard gets back to it, pressing his tongue against the underside of my dick and swirling it around the tip. When I feel my balls pull up I grab his head and drag him in as far as I can. He swallows without being told and my mouth drops open as I come, his throat constricting around me.  
I release him after a moment and he falls back, coughing.  
"Asshole," he spits out before stalking off to the bathroom again.  
I ignore him, stripping the condom off and tossing it into the trash. I pull my boxers and jeans back up and pour myself another glass of Jack.

By the time Gerard comes out of the bathroom I'm sitting in the living room on my tattered sofa, a lit cigarette between my lips. The sun is coming up and the pale light makes Gerard look even thinner and malnourished. His skin is almost translucent. He drops onto the couch and pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his boot.  
After a few moments of silence, I turn the tv on. There's nothing on but paid programing and the morning news, so I switch it off. I wait until Gerard finishes his cigarette before I reach out for him.  
"Come here."  
The look he gives me is dirty, but I ignore it and pull him close. He practically hisses at me when I start sucking on his neck, but I ignore that too. I let my hands wander over his thin body for a few minutes, my mouth on his neck and collarbone all the while, before I pull away.  
"Strip."  
He climbs to his feet smoothly and does as I tell him, shirt first. He lets the fabric drop to the floor and his boots come off next. I unzip my jeans and tug them and my boxers down to my knees, getting a hand on my cock and starting to stroke.  
Once Gerard is completely nude, he crawls into my lap without being told and I almost laugh at him. He takes over for me and I use my free hand to pull my shirt off. There's a little side table next to my couch and I reach over to tug the drawer open. I search around blindly, half focusing on my search, half paying attention to Gerard's hand. I slam the drawer shut again and uncap the tiny bottle of lube I uncovered. I realize that Gerard has his other hand moving over his own cock and it makes my stomach burn.  
"You need prep?" I ask, words half choked as he rubs his thumb over my slit.  
"What a gentleman," he bites.  
"Fine," I smirk sarcastically. "No prep for Gerard."  
I don't think I've ever been fixed with an icier glare, but he's opening a condom packet that appeared from nowhere and sliding it down my cock, so I let it go. I slick myself up with lube then toss the bottle aside. My fingers are sticky when I grip his slim hips and pull him close, guiding him onto my dick. He sinks down fast with a hiss and my mouth falls open in a moan.  
"Fuck, Gerard. Fuck."  
He steadies himself with one hand on my shoulder and another on my bare chest, then he starts moving.  
"Fuck, fuck," I gasp. My fingers dig into his hips as he works, pushing and pulling, forcing him to sink deeper.  
"Mmfh."  
I grin at the tiny noise that comes from Gerard's throat.  
"Come on, baby," I gasp out. "Make some noise, pretend you're enjoying yourself." I grasp his hips and slam him down into my lap and immediately his head falls back, mouth open, letting out a gorgeous moan. "That's more like it," I tell him.  
He growls at me when he pulls his head back up. His cheeks are flushed now and he looks pissed.  
"Bite me," he half snarls, half moans.  
I assume he's just being a bitch, but I decide to take him at his word and swiftly pull him forward to sink my teeth into his neck.  
"Oh shit," he gasps, grinding his hips down and moving a hand down to grab his own dick.  
I lose myself for a while in the motion of his hips, the taste of his neck, and the trembling little gasps he's letting out.  
"Fuck, Frank. I'm-"  
That's all the warning I get before Gerard is coming hot and fast onto my bare stomach. His ass clenches around me and I moan, pulling him close and digging my fingers into his skin as I come.  
We sit, panting against each other, for about ten seconds before Gerard pushes away from me and pulls off with a grimace and a hiss. He saunters into the bathroom, completely naked, and slams the door behind him.  
"Rude!" I call after him. I make quick work of the condom and the come on my stomach, then pull my boxers up. I kick my shoes and jeans off as I make my way from the living room into my bedroom, leaving the door open so Gerard knows to follow.  
It's almost ten minutes before he finally walks in and shuts the door behind him. The room is dark, morning sun blocked out with thick, dark curtains, but I can see him stumbling around.  
"Ow, what the fuck?"  
"Watch where you walk," I say sleepily.  
"Bitch."  
"Come here." I reach out from where I'm laying in bed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down. I grin when I realize he's still naked. "You want something to wear?"  
I take the stuffy silence as a _yes_ and sit up to grab a pair of boxers from the broken little bureau next to the bed.  
Gerard tugs them on without a word and crawls down under the blankets when I pull them back.  
"How long do I still have?" I ask, starting to drift as soon as my head hits my pillow.  
"Noon," he mutters.  
"Cool, sleep with me."  
I pull him close, making him set his head on my chest which makes him grumble. I chuckle softly and then I'm out.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up slowly. I haven't slept that great in a long time. I feel boneless when I stretch, no muscle aches and no migraine. I need to get laid more often.  
The glowing red numbers of my clock tell me it's just after 5pm, which means Gerard should be long gone.  
It takes me awhile to stumble out of bed and out into the rest of my apartment. My clothes are still scattered about but Gerard's are gone. I think he stole my boxers, what a bitch. I pour myself a glass of orange juice, mixed with some vodka out of the freezer, and make a bowl of cereal. There's nothing on t.v. but I watch it anyway while thinking back to this morning, thinking about Gerard riding me on this couch. Fuck.  
I take a long shower, cold for the most part. There's about another hour until the sun sets, so I get dressed and decide to go buy food for the week. Before I leave I grab the jeans I wore last night and empty the contents of the pockets into tonight's. One pocket full of goods, one pocket full of-  
I recount the slim roll of bills in my hand. Gerard said seven and I'm missing a grand.  
Mother fucker.

My tires screech as I slam on my brakes, opening my door even as I throw it into park. Gerard is leaning against the open window of a slick black Volvo, some fat dude in a suit leering at him from inside. They both look up as I approach.  
"Get lost," I yell at the dude.  
"Fuck you buddy, I was here first," he sneers.  
I pull out a small handgun and point it at his face through the windshield.  
"Get. The fuck. Lost."  
The guy looks like he pisses himself before he drives off, careening down the main road. Gerard stumbles back onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing the tires.  
"What the fuck's your problem!?" he yells at me.  
I tuck the gun away as I run up to him, grabbing him by his arm and slamming him into the cement wall.  
"You, motherfucker. You stole from me."  
"Bullshit," he says, back to calm in an instant.  
"You said seven hundred."  
"Yup."  
"Then why am I missing a grand?" I growl.  
He looks up at the sky, light fading as the sun sinks.  
"Answer me you little bitch!"  
"Maybe you didn't read the terms and conditions," he smirks, looking back down at me. "Smacking me around costs extra."  
"You lying little slut."  
He looks away from me again.  
"Where is it? Give it back."  
He ignores me.  
"I could kill you and no one would notice."  
"Go for it," he tells the sky.  
"Is that what you want?" I hiss.  
"I don't have it."  
I glare at him for a split second before I drag him away from the wall and over to my car. Opening the passenger side with one hand, I push him inside and slam the door after him. I jog around the car and climb in.  
It's hard to keep it close to the speed limit when I'm so angry, but getting pulled over is something I try to avoid when I have enough drugs on me to earn a life sentence in prison. Gerard is sitting next to me, looking out the window as we leave the shitty part of town and enter the real-fucking-shitty-don't-get-out-of-your-car part of town.  
"Telling my mom on me?" he mutters as I pull up in front of a falling down, one story house with trash in the yard.  
I get out of the car and walk around to pull him to his feet. I drag him up the three steps and to the front door, slamming my fist against it.  
"Motherfucker, what the shi-! Oh."  
"Tony," I say tersely, addressing the huge African-American who opens the door.  
He glances at my expression before looking over at Gerard, whose arm is still clenched in my hand.  
"Iero," he greets me. "What the fuck did this piece of shit do?"  
"Stole from me."  
Tony darts a hand out to grab Gerard by the hair, pulling him inside with a growl. I follow after, shutting the door behind me.  
He leads us into the kitchen where a few strung out looking girls are lounging.  
"Beat it," Tony tells them. They scurry out of the room, including the girl who buys off me on behalf of Tony.  
Gerard is thrown against the dirty kitchen counter and Tony turns to look at me.  
"What happened?"  
"I picked him up this morning. He told me seven and I'm missing a grand."  
Tony sighs deeply. "He only gave me seven."  
We both look at Gerard.  
"Where is it, you stupid little whore?" Tony demands.  
Gerard shrugs. Tony backhands him. He catches himself against the counter and clutches his face with one hand.  
"Where is it?" Tony asks again, louder.  
"I don't have it," Gerard mutters, hunched over with his hair hiding his face.  
Tony grabs him by the arm and forces him to stand up straight before backhanding him again, harder. When he lets go, Gerard drops to the floor.  
"Look," I say, annoyed. "Just give me three hundred bucks so I can be on my way."  
"Of course," Tony sighs. He leaves the kitchen to get the money, leaving me and Gerard alone.  
I watch as Gerard gets to his hands and knees, the climbs up using the counter for support. The half of his face that Tony hit is already blossoming with a spectacular bruise, from his eye down to his chin.  
"I didn't know you knew Tony," he mutters.  
“Where'd you think he gets the drugs for his girls?" I ask.  
I stick my hands in my pockets and watch as Gerard stumbles into the corner of the kitchen. He splays his hands against the walls and looks directly at me.  
"He's gonna kill me, you know. You just got me killed."  
"Maybe you should just give back the money you took."  
"I don't fucking have it!" he whisper-shouts at me, fingers curling against the tiled walls.  
"Did you buy drugs with it?" I ask.  
"No," he admits. "Tony gives me what I need."  
"What else would you need that much money for?"  
He gives me an icy glare that makes me flash back to this morning.  
"Just because I'm a coked-up _whore_ doesn't mean I don't have other things to take care of," he hisses at me.  
"Like what?" I ask, actually curious now.  
"Like none of your fucking business. You think because I fucked you for money means you have the right to know anything about me or the people I care about?"  
I narrow my eyes at him for a moment before I open my mouth, about to ask who he means. Suddenly a door slams on the other side of the house and Gerard jumps a foot in the air.  
"Fuck, fuck," he mutters, closing his eyes and shrinking into the corner. "You mother fucker, you killed me."  
Tony walks back into the kitchen and holds out three hundred dollars for me. I don't take it, instead I continue staring at Gerard.  
"Iero," Tony prompts.  
I finally glance up at the huge black man.  
"You gonna kill him?" I ask bluntly.  
"Who, him?" Tony asks, nodding at Gerard, who's now shaking. "Probably."  
"Why?"  
Tony gives me an odd look, but answers regardless. "I got no use for a girl that steals from me or the clients. I can't sell him; no self-respecting master would buy a street whore. I got no option left."  
"No."  
"Excuse me?" Tony asks face dropping into an expression of confusion mixed with anger.  
"I'll buy him," I answer.  
Gerard's eyes fly open, wearing almost the same expression as Tony a second before; confusion and anger.  
"I'll buy him," I repeat into the silence, looking back to Tony. "Look at it this way, it gets him out of your hair and you'll make some money."  
"I-" Tony starts.  
"You were just gonna kill him," I remind him.  
Tony narrows his eyes and glances between me and Gerard a few times. Gerard is still staring at me, expression moving away from confusion and more towards anger.  
I smirk and pull out my wallet, counting out a small stack of bills. I place them in Tony's hand on top of the three hundred dollars, then turn to look at Gerard.  
"Go get in my car," I tell him.  
He glares at me.  
"Now."  
Gerard thrusts his chin into the air and saunters out of the room like he wants nothing more in the world than to do so. Tony's hand flinches, like he's about to stop him, but I call his attention back to me.  
"Tony."  
He looks down, a full head and shoulders taller than me.  
"You know who I am and I'm sure you've heard stories. Shit I've done, what I'm capable of."  
The look on his face tells me I'm right, and that he's trying very hard to continue to look intimidating.  
"I suggest you take that money and let this be the end of it. Tell Alyssa I expect her, same time, same place to pick up your order."  
I turn on my heel and walk out of the room, knowing Tony wants to stop me and also knowing he wouldn't dare. I'm half expecting Gerard to be long gone by the time I get outside, but he's sitting patiently in the passenger's side of my rusty car with his head back and his eyes shut. He doesn't look up at me when I start the car. In fact, he ignores me completely until I pull into the parking lot of a grocery store.  
"What the fuck is this?" he asks, pissed.  
"A grocery store," I tell him, pulling the keys from the ignition.  
"No fucking shit. What are we doing here?"  
"Buying food. I want to eat when I get home." I open the car door and get out, then bend over to peer inside at Gerard.  
"Are you coming?"  
"Fuck no," he says, crossing his thin arms over his chest and glaring straight ahead.  
"Fine, I'll be right back." I slam the door behind me and stroll into the brightly lit store.

When I return to the car twenty minutes later, two arms full of bags, I'm surprised to find that Gerard is still sitting exactly where he was, unmoved. I throw the plastic bags in the backseat and drop into the front, pulling the keys from my pocket.  
I make Gerard carry half the groceries when we get back to the apartment building. He gives me a glare and calls me an asshole and I resist the urge to hit him. The bruise on his face is getting nasty now and his eye is beginning to swell shut.  
He dumps the plastic bags on the kitchen counter when we get inside. He turns and opens the freezer, stares inside for a moment, then pulls out the half empty bottle of vodka and gently presses it to his face.  
"Oh fuck. Fuck, Tony that fucking bastard," he growls.  
"He's never smacked you around before?" I ask as I begin to put the food away.  
Gerard drops into one of the two chairs I have around my kitchen table and sighs angrily.  
"Of course he fucking has. Doesn't stop me wanting to cut his dick off each time."  
I chuckle.  
"Oh fuck you, asshole. This is all your fault, you stingy motherfucker."  
I drop the box of cereal in my hands and turn around to grab Gerard from where he's sitting. I shake him by his arms and bare my teeth.  
"Look, you little bitch. I just saved your life and paid a shit ton of money while doing it. You better watch your fucking mouth."  
"Why, so you can fuck it later? I'm not gonna be your personal fucking whore so you better back the fuck up!" he practically shouts in my face, slamming the bottle of vodka to the table.  
I dig my fingers into his upper arms. "Don't," I say, my voice low and livid. "Don't make me waste all that money by fucking killing you."  
He leans forward to get in my face, bloodshot eyes widening. "Fucking go for it."  
I clench my teeth for a moment before pushing him away, shoving him back into the chair. I turn away and slam my fist against the countertop, then swear at the pain that flares through my knuckles.  
There's a loaded silence in the kitchen for a few minutes while I stare at the counter and Gerard stares at my back. Eventually Gerard stands.  
"Fine, Jesus Christ. You don't have to be so pissy about it." He picks up the box of cereal I dropped. "Where does this go?"

I make two boxes of mac and cheese while Gerard sits at the table and presses the bottle of vodka to his face. We eat in silence, Gerard wincing as he chews. Afterwards I dump our dishes in the sink and move towards the door.  
"I'll be back before sun up," I tell him before shutting the door.  
I head to my favorite spot and manage to sell everything I have on me without any trouble. I almost make back what I lost on Gerard. This time, as I return to my apartment, I completely expect Gerard to be long gone.  
But he isn't.  
He's curled up in my bed, under the covers. I strip down by the door then crawl into bed.  
"Shove over," I murmur.  
"Fuck you," is his slurred response.  
I maneuver his pliant limbs, heavy with sleep, until he's pulled close to me, head on my chest so I can lay on the pillow.  
"Bitch," he mutters.  
"Shut up," I yawn back.

I'm fully expecting Gerard to be there when I wake up.  
But he's not.  
I check the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom. He's gone.

For two weeks I don't see or hear anything about him. I ask around, no one's seen him. There's a new boy at his corner on Parker Ave, a skinny blonde with track marks on his arm.  
I push Gerard from my mind and get on with life, dealing and buying. Dealing, buying.


	3. Chapter 3

Gerard’s P.O.V.

It's Friday night and I'm itchy. I need. I need. I need. Fuck, how hard is it to find some coke in Newark on a fucking Friday night?  
I finally find someone, a tall skinny dude that's obviously been dipping into his own shit judging from the look in his eyes. He nods me into the alley behind a club to make the transaction.  
The street lights don’t reach back here and my eyes have to adjust for a moment before I realize the dude is right up in my face.  
“What the-” is all I can get out before he shoves me against the brick wall at my back and presses his mouth against mine. I grunt in disgust and start shoving at his arms and chest, but he’s a lot fucking stronger than I thought. One of his hands drops to grab at my fly. _Oh, hell no, I am not about to be raped in a fucking alley,_ I think desperately. I reach up and dig my fingers into the guy’s throat, pressing against his Adam’s apple, which finally gets him to pull away. He punches me in the stomach and I curl up, arms wrapped around my torso.  
“Oh fuck,” I groan. I’m expecting him to be on me again any second, but instead I hear a shout and suddenly there’s a scuffle going on in front of me. My eyes are still blurred from the pain in the stomach, so I don’t look up until someone puts their hands on my arms.  
“Get the fuck off me!” I shout, pushing away the hands. They let go and I look up. It’s motherfuckng Frank Iero.  
“Gerard,” he says simply.  
I stand up and stare at him. He’s looking me over, setting a hand on my arm again. There’s a groan to my left and I look over. It’s the tall dude who fucking kissed me, laying on the ground.  
“Did he hurt you?” Frank asks me. I look back at him and realize he’s furious. He’s shaking and his eyes are burning. It sort of takes my breath away.  
My face drops into an angry pout and he squeezes my arm.  
“Gerard. Did he. Hurt you?” Frank repeats, his voice breaking.  
“Yes,” I answer begrudgingly.  
Frank lets go of me and is towering over the rapist asshole a second later. He kicks the guy in the stomach.  
“You motherfucker. Who the fuck do you think you are? How dare you put your filthy fucking hands on him!”  
Frank is shouting, cursing. He’s punctuating his words with vicious kicks and the guy is starting to spit blood.  
“Frank,” I mutter, still pressed against the brick wall where he left me.  
Frank drops to kneel over the guy’s chest and starts punching him, over and over, swearing and shouting the whole time. "I'll fucking kill you! How dare you lay a hand on-"  
"Frank!” I yell. His hits falter, his fist raised above his head. "Frank," I repeat, quieter.  
He turns to look at me and there's a spray of blood on his face from where he broke the guy's nose. Frank's eyes are wide, bleary.  
I walk over, slowly, and grab his hand. I can feel the slick, warm slide of blood on his fingers. He's staring up at me, a slightly confused look on his face. I don't think he's ever been interrupted in the middle of such a rage before. I pull him to his feet.  
"Come on. Take me home."  
We leave the guy who attacked me where he’s laying in the back of the alley. I don't know if he’s alive, and I don't particularly care. Frank isn't shaking anymore. He’s cool and composed as we saunter out onto the sidewalk. He turns right and I follow him, spotting his car parked a few doors away. The music from the club blares away as we pass. The people standing outside smoking ignore us as we pass. Either they didn't hear what just happened and don't see the blood on Frank, or they don't care. More likely the latter.  
Frank opens the passenger door for me, which throws me a little, but I climb in regardless. He takes his place in the driver’s seat and soon we’re driving away. The ride is silent except for the sound of his breathing. We pull into the parking lot behind his building and we both get out and start walking. I slip my arm into his.  
Once inside his apartment, he pauses. I tug on his arm until he follows me to the bathroom. I grab a towel and run it under the faucet before pressing it to his face.  
The blood wipes away easily. I make my way across his face and down his neck. His eyes are on me, but I concentrate on my task.  
“Take this off,” I mutter, tugging on his ruined shirt. He moves slowly, eyes still on my face. He drops the shirt to the floor and lets me clean the speckles of blood off his arms. I notice the calluses and scars on his hands as I drag the towel over them. When the blood is all wiped away, I drop the towel to the floor, but don’t release his hands.  
They’re warm and strong. Strong enough to beat a man half to death for forcing himself on me. I finally look into his face.  
“Frank, I-”  
The fiery look in his eyes robs me of my words and I hesitate, breath pushed from my lungs. The silence is blaring as we stare each other down. It feels like hours pass before he leans forward and presses his lips to mine.  
It’s nothing like the guy from earlier. Frank is gentle, soft. Part of my brain is stuck on how Frank can be murderous and gentle in the same night, but the rest of me is pushing forward to be as close to him as possible.  
His hands drop from mine and slip around my hips, fingers digging in as the kiss becomes more passionate. My hands find their way into his short black hair and I break away for a moment, gasping for air. He immediately moves his lips to my neck, biting and sucking. I gasp and he bites harder.  
“Frank,” I mutter. “Frank.”  
We stumble out of the bathroom, not willing to break away from one another in order to walk properly. He backs me against his bedroom door and takes a hand off me to fumble for the doorknob. We fall through and I drag him onto his bed, pulling him down on top of me.  
He pulls back for a moment as I rip my shirt over my head. I can hear the clinking of his belt buckle and I reach forward to help. He pulls his belt from the loops and tosses it aside, ducking down right after to kiss me again.  
It’s not soft this time, it’s rough and passionate. Our tongues fight against one another and more than once he bites my lip. He slaps my hands away when I reach for the button on my pants, undoing them quickly himself and yanking them down. I kick them off even as I’m reaching for his jeans. He tugs them down and then he’s above me again, pressing close, muttering something under his breath as he goes to suck on my neck.  
“Frank. Frank, Frank,” I pant.  
He pulls away to reach under his bed for a moment, resurfacing with a strip of condoms and a tiny bottle of lube. He tosses me the condoms and pops the cap on the lube. I rip a square away from the strip and start to open it. Suddenly there are cool, wet fingers on my thigh. I spread my legs to give him access and gasp when a finger finds my opening. He presses in with two fingers, stretching me without hesitation. Dropping the condom wrapper onto the sheets, I reach down and curl a hand around his dick and slide the condom on.  
“Frank, now. Come on.”  
He slides his fingers out and I gasp, dropping my head back into the pillow. I hear the cap on the lube again as he slicks himself up.  
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I mutter, reaching for his hips, pulling him forward. He grabs my wrists and presses them into the pillow above my head, holding them there with one hand. The other hand reaches down to guide himself in. I gasp and writhe as he sinks in, pulling against his hand but not trying to get free. “Move, move. Fuck.”  
Frank pulls out, slowly, before sinking back in just as slow. He does it again, and again, and again.  
I can’t fucking breathe and my vision has gone white. “Frank, Frank please.”  
He smirks and leans down to sink his teeth into my already bruised neck before pushing in, harder, faster. The stretch is fucking good and I can’t hold back the obnoxiously loud moans that come spilling from my mouth. Frank’s back is bowed as he slams into me and molests my neck at the same time. I cry out when he hits my prostate.  
“Frank, Frank, I need, I-”  
“What? What do you need, Gerard?” Frank growls into my skin.  
“Touch me,” I demand. He grins at my gasping order and I feel his free hand slip across my stomach. I bite my lips to hold back my cry when he wraps his callused fingers around my cock. It only takes a few strokes to bring me off, throwing my head back as I come onto my belly and Frank’s hand. He tenses up a moment later, pressed into me as far as he can get, stretching me open. He bites into my shoulder when he comes.  
I feel as if I black out for a minute or two, because the next thing I know is Frank’s pulling away.  
“Where-?”  
“Bathroom, I’ll be right back,” he mutters.  
I sink into the mattress and listen to my own panting breaths. I can’t feel my body, but at the same time it’s like my skin is tingling. I reach up to touch my neck, slippery with Frank’s spit. I touch the indentations of his teeth and wonder how badly they’ll hurt tomorrow.  
I glance up when Frank enters the room again. He climbs into the bed and hovers over me. I watch his eyes dance over my body and I don’t give a shit that I’m laying completely exposed and fucked out. He grins and reaches over to wipe the cool cloth around my neck. It feels good. Next, he cleans the tacky come from my stomach and softening dick. He drops the cloth on the floor then collapses next to me, pulling a blanket up.  
I’m already drifting when he mutters something. I don’t quite catch it, but before I can ask him to repeat himself, I’m asleep.

Frank’s P.O.V.

I wake slowly. My body feels fluid and amazing, but sore in weird places. I glance at the illuminated numbers of my clock and realize it’s almost five. I need to get up, but something keeps me laying still. Something’s off.  
I trail my eyes over my bedroom but everything looks the way it should. I reach up to drag a hand across my face and cringe at the pain that shoots through my knuckles.  
It comes back to me all at once. Seeing Gerard hunched over, some asshole looming over him. Kicking and punching and screaming. Gerard, leading me home. Gerard, cleaning blood from my face and hands. Gerard, under me, writhing and moaning.  
I’m alone in my bed and my heart starts racing even as my stomach sinks. He’s gone again. Damn it. Damn him-  
“Hey.”  
The door creaks open, light from the fading sun sneaking in. Gerard is leaning against the door frame. His neck is bruised up and his hair is wild. His eyes are on me, a slight smirk lifting his lips.  
“I made coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Dealer!Verse has been scrapped. It's still up, if you want to read the few chapters I posted, but I'll probably never finish it.  
> I'd suggest stopping right here and enjoying the happy ending :)


End file.
